Dashing: A Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Unleashed Romance, Book 2)

by Kylie Gilmore

  Dashing

  Kylie Gilmore

  Copyright © 2021 by Kylie Gilmore

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Dashing: © 2021 by Kylie Gilmore

  Excerpt from Sporting © 2021 by Kylie Gilmore

  Digital edition 1.0

  Cover design by: Michele Catalano Creative

  Published by: Extra Fancy Books

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64658-022-4

  Contents

  About Dashing

  FREE DOWNLOAD

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Freebie

  Also by Kylie Gilmore

  About the Author

  Dashing

  Adam

  True or false? Men and women can’t be friends. I used to say true, until I met Kayla.

  Yes, she’s a goddess, but it’s completely platonic. So when she asks me to pose as her fiancé at a party, I’m all in. Especially since her sleazeball ex will be there. Can you believe this weasel dumped her at the altar? I’ve got your back, Kayla. What are friends for?

  But now I’m worried I played the part too well because we’re heading home, and she makes a confession: she’s tired of saving herself for marriage and wants me to be her first. Her first!

  I can’t go there. The woman has committed relationship written all over her, something I’m never doing again for good reason.

  Except when I tell her no, she starts considering other candidates. I can’t let her be with some random guy! I can’t cross the line either. She doesn’t know what she’s asking! She doesn’t know what she’s doing! Someone has to stop her.

  Kayla

  Only Adam will do.

  NEXT FROM KYLIE GILMORE

  Don’t miss Sporting! There’s an excerpt at the back of this book.

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  1

  Adam

  “Would you like to dance?” a cheerful voice asks, and an alarm goes off in my mind.

  I should’ve anticipated this, a slow song at our siblings’ wedding reception. I meet the bright and eager brown eyes of my only woman friend ever, Kayla Winters.

  She’s a goddess, no question, wearing a sleeveless black dress for the occasion, exposing creamy skin from her delicate throat to her collarbones and the swell of her cleavage. Her dark brown hair falls in a wave over one bare shoulder. Her plump lips are a luscious red. I swallow hard.

  Ridiculous. We’re friends. No cause for alarm. Of course I can slow dance with my woman friend. Neither of us is interested in a relationship. She specifically said she wasn’t ready to even consider dating after getting left at the altar. It’s one of the first things she told me, and she continues to stick by her firm stance, as she’ll share with anyone who suggests she get back out there. As for me, just the idea of a committed relationship sets me on edge.

  I take her hand and walk out to the dance floor. It occurs to me she only dated her ex-fiancé for two months, while Kayla and I have known each other for four months now. Since last February when she decided we were friends.

  She actually said that back then. You seem like a really nice guy, and I’d like to be friends. What could I say? She’s my client’s younger sister, and I was on the job for weeks. I’m a master carpenter. Of course I agreed, even though I never have women friends. Truthfully, I’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf. My work, my family, the people I know in town, that’s enough for me. I guess you could say I’m friends with the guy next door I sometimes go fishing with, but it’s not like we share deep confidences. Kayla did right from the beginning. My quiet nature seems to make her comfortable enough to share.

  I find us an open spot on the dance floor and bring my hands to her narrow waist, holding her lightly. She puts her arms around my neck instead of holding my shoulders, bringing us so close I can feel her heat. Or maybe that’s my heat. I’m burning up in my dress shirt, the blazer discarded long ago. She’s petite, even in heels, her head level with my chest.

  I subtly shift her away from me. It seems more appropriate for friends. Even if she was over her sleazeball ex, I’d never cross the line. It’s important to keep that boundary so no one gets hurt.

  “It’s a beautiful wedding, isn’t it?” she asks, looking around us. We’re under a white tent in the groom’s backyard, an expansive piece of land with rolling hills edged by woodlands. My younger sister, Sydney, married Kayla’s older brother, Wyatt. I guess Kayla and I are related now. Some kind of in-law thing. That’s cool since we’re good friends.

  I glance around. “Yeah. And they lucked out getting a sunny day.” It’s May, typically sunny. I’m barely aware of what I’m saying I’m so focused on keeping a safe distance. She keeps shifting closer.

  “I ordered it special,” she declares. “You know, if I weren’t going to be a biostatistician, I think I’d make a good wedding planner. I helped Sydney plan this one.”

  I incline my head. I don’t know anything about either career. All I know is she’s whip smart and just wrapped up her master’s degree in biostatistics. She’ll be looking for a job soon, probably moving far away from Summerdale, New York. Right now she works part time as a waitress at The Horseman Inn, the historic restaurant and bar that’s been in my family for generations. My sister, Sydney, owns it now. Kayla is a terrible waitress, constantly dropping dishes, but she’s so damn cute and apologetic everyone forgives her.

  She smiles. “You look very handsome in your crisp white dress shirt. Nice contrast with your dark hair and tanned skin. Still got the scruffy jaw. No shaving for the wedding, huh?”

  She never talks about my looks, always my skill as a craftsman. I’m suddenly hyperaware of her, of me, every nerve ending on edge. “Uh, thanks. I trimmed the scruff a bit to make it look neat.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Got a haircut too.”

  I go stock-still at the surprising sensation of her fingers running through the hair at the nape of my neck, sending tingles down my spine. She’s playing with my hair. Even more alarming, she goes up on tiptoe to whisper in my ear, her full breasts grazing my chest. “We’re friends, right?”

  “Yeah.” I relax a little. Both because she’s keeping the boundary and because she shifted back to look at me, ensuring her breasts are now a safe distance away.

  She smiles wi
nningly. “Great. I have a favor to ask you.”

  “Sure.”

  She laughs. “You didn’t even hear what it is. What if I said something crazy like I need you to do my laundry?”

  A smile tugs at my lips. “If you don’t mind wrinkled clothes, I’ll throw them in with mine.”

  She smooths a hand down my shirtsleeve, sending a rush of heat over my skin. “Your clothes aren’t wrinkled at all.”

  “I pull dress shirts out of the dryer immediately to avoid ironing. What do you need?”

  She looks over my shoulder, suddenly shy. “You’re going to think it’s silly.”

  I don’t reply. Kayla never needs any coaxing to talk.

  She goes back on tiptoe to whisper her request, and I catch the pink of her cheek out of the corner of my eye. “Would you pretend to be my fiancé at a party?”

  I break into a cold sweat. Fiancé? I was a fiancé once, never again.

  “I’ll pay you,” she adds.

  My jaw gapes.

  She grabs my hand and tugs me off the dance floor, saying, “I’ll explain in private.”

  “No need to explain.” Because it’s not happening. No payment and definitely no fiancé, pretend or not.

  She releases my hand and gestures for me to follow as she walks around to the front of Wyatt’s large gray two-story house. I don’t mind getting away from the reception with so many people. I like the quiet. She climbs the steps of the wraparound porch with four white pine rocking chairs. I made those chairs, a simple elegant design with curved wood to fit your head and bottom. They were additional pieces Wyatt commissioned me to do, along with a library complete with shelves, storage space, and a rolling ladder. I restored some hardwood floors and did cabinetry in the living room too. He’s been good for my business, talking me up and giving me loads of referrals.

  She sits in a chair and rocks a little. “I just love these chairs, you crafty genius.”

  My chest puffs with pride. I take the chair next to her. “Thanks.” I work hard at my craft, and I’m always trying to improve, taking on more challenges.

  She gives me a sheepish smile. “So, it’s like this. My favorite professor is having an end-of-the-year party at her place for the entire statistics department. It’s casual, a backyard barbecue. And my ex—the one who left me at the altar four and a half months ago—will be there. This is the first time I’m going to see him since then, and I know it’ll be awkward. I just want him to see I’ve moved on definitively.”

  She’s very precise when it comes to numbers—four and a half months. I respect that as a carpenter. You have to measure twice before you cut anything. Now that I know it’s about saving face in front of her sleazy ex, I’m in. I’m about to tell her that when she continues.

  “I know it’s an inconvenience for you, which is why I’m happy to pay you. My tips aren’t great, honestly, but my apartment is free, so I do have some money.”

  She lives above The Horseman Inn in my sister’s old place. Not surprising her tips aren’t great when she dumps food on patrons and the floor. I let that one go. “First, please don’t pay a guy for a date.”

  “But it’s an inconvenience.”

  I exhale sharply. “Second, I’ll go.”

  She blinks a few times. “You will?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you don’t want anything in return?”

  I rub the back of my neck, not expecting to have to explain the way friendship works. Will it be uncomfortable? Yes. But I want to be there for her. “I got your back.”

  She stares at me, not seeming convinced. “I don’t know. Now that I think about it, you don’t like parties. This wouldn’t be fun for you at all. Forget it. It wasn’t fair of me to ask. I’ll ask someone else, okay?”

  Before I can reply, she’s already walking away, on her way to her new fake fiancé.

  I stare after her, torn on what to do. Do I insist on being her fake fiancé? It’s true I don’t enjoy parties, but she asked me for a reason, right? I’m the friend she can depend on. Maybe I didn’t sound enthusiastic enough.

  I follow her around the side of the house. Her sisters, Brooke and Paige, wave at her from the dance floor, and she hurries over to them, joining in with enthusiastic hip bumps for her sisters. Kinda funny because she’s shorter than they are.

  Someone jabs me in the ribs. I turn, coming face-to-face with Kayla’s brother, Wyatt. My new brother-in-law is my age, thirty, and about my height at six feet with dark brown wavy hair, brown eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. He’s good to my sister and quick with a joke. Though right now he looks damn serious.

  “Hey, congrats, man,” I say.

  “What was that about?” he asks, jutting his chin toward Kayla. She’s the youngest of his three sisters, and he looks out for them fiercely. Probably something to do with the fact that their dad died when they were young and Wyatt stepped up. Kayla went straight to him when she was left at the altar and stuck around too.

  I pull my shoulders back, immediately sensing overprotective brother about to go on the attack. “Nothing.” I’m not going to share Kayla’s fake-fiancé plan with her brother. That’s a betrayal of trust.

  “Look, I could tell she was propositioning you on the dance floor—”

  “Say what?”

  He holds up a palm. “Save it. It’s not that I don’t like you, I do, and I respect your work, but—” he jabs a finger in my chest “—don’t mess around with her unless you’re serious. I’m talking marriage level of commitment because that’s what she’s looking for.”

  A chill goes through me. Never again.

  “It’s not like that,” I say. “We’re friends.”

  He scoffs. “I saw how cozy you looked together on the dance floor. It might’ve started off like that when she talked your ear off while you worked at my house, but I’ve seen you at The Horseman Inn while she’s working, and you look damn happy.” Wyatt sometimes works behind the bar there. Not because he has to—he’s a retired billionaire tech whiz—but because he’s passionate about quality wine, beer, and whiskey and wants to share that knowledge with customers. Sydney says profits at the bar are way up as a result.

  I lift one shoulder in a careless shrug. He’s got no bone to pick with me. I’m not getting involved with his sister. Period. “It’s my family’s restaurant. I always go there.”

  He grunts. “She’s not a woman you mess around with. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  He turns to me with a speculative eye. “Unless you’re serious.”

  I put my palms up. “I’ve got no plans to marry her.” I was engaged a little over a year ago. Amelia left for an “adventure in Panama” with a consultant from her work. After four years together, it was a shock. Understatement. My dad died a week later. I’ve only recently started to feel like myself again.

  He shakes his head. “After her asshole ex bailed on their wedding, she was a complete mess for two months. You didn’t see half of what I saw. Brutal.”

  “It’s been four and a half months.”

  He eyes me.

  “Just saying.”

  He slices a hand through the air. “Doesn’t matter. Be serious or forget it. Those are your two options.”

  This is my new brother-in-law, whom I consider a friend. He gave me a dream job with free rein to design his library and living room built-ins, plus I’m getting steady work referrals through him. It’s amazing how many wealthy people he knows who appreciate custom carpentry work. I’m not going to screw that up.

  I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Kayla and I are friends. End of story.”

  We both look over to Kayla on the dance floor. She’s balancing on one foot, working off one strappy heel. She loses her balance, and Wyatt and I both lurch forward. Sydney rights her before either of us can get close.

  Wyatt gives me a suspicious look before joining Sydney on the dance floor.

  I head for the open bar, get a whisky—Wyatt stocked the good stuff—and ta
ke a seat at an empty table. My eye catches on Kayla. Now she’s dancing with my brother Eli. He’s closer to her age at twenty-six, thick with muscle because he works out hard-core to keep in shape for his job as a cop. Not that he has to apprehend any criminals in Summerdale. We’re pretty low-key here.

  Wait. Is she asking him to be her fake fiancé? He’s single and won’t hesitate to make a move. I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing. “Kayla.”

  She turns to me. “Hey, Adam! Join us!” She waves me over.

  Eli says something to her, and she pushes his shoulder playfully. He’s probably telling her I never cut loose. I’ve never been a big partier. And you won’t find me having an “adventure in Panama” either. I’m rooted here in Summerdale with my job and my family, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have fun in my own way.

  And then she’s heading straight for me, and my pulse thrums through my veins.

  She looks up at me, a quizzical look on her sweet face. “What’s up?”

  “Is Eli going to that party with you?”

  She glances back at him. “I don’t know. You think he’d do it?”

  Of course he’d do it. He’s all about making a move on a beautiful woman.

  She starts moving to the beat. “We are friendly. I see him at the restaurant regularly. He’s the Saturday night entertainment on his acoustic guitar sometimes.”

  Yes, the multitalented Eli. He only learned guitar to impress women.

  She stills. “Are you okay? You look kinda mad.”

  I dip my head toward her ear and lower my voice. “I’ll go with you to the party. I’m looking forward to sticking it to your ex.”